I, Tensai
by Eugene
Summary: Akira Sendoh, pre-Slam Dunk, what made him into the player he is? All comments welcome! Disclaimer: I don't own slam dunk or any characters thereof.
1. Prologue: I, Tensai

Prologue

                Sweat ran down my forehead and stung my eyes, forcing me to raise my hand to wipe away the salty liquid.  That was all that my opponent needed.  When I raised my left hand to my eyes, he exploded to take advantage of the opening.  Before I could recover, he'd already gained the extra step he needed to break through.

                Despite what many may think, actually going around a defensive player with the ball is not that easy.  It is actually very rare occurrence over the course of a game.  Even against an average defender, avoiding him and actually getting to the basket is very difficult.  Against a good one, it's damn near impossible.  The best ways was to give up the ball, move away from it, and wait for it to come back.  Nobody ever won a game by consistently blowing by his man.  Instead, it was about creating space.  Creating enough space to shoot, or enough space to pass, or if your defender was really that good, creating just enough space to take a breath.

                That being said, I'm sure, for a moment, my opponent thought he had won.

                I had no intention of letting him think so, let alone actually score the basket.

                As my defender began to pass me, I swung my right foot around, pivoting on my left foot.  I let my arm trail for a second before shooting out and knocking the ball away.

                I didn't wait to find out if my teammate had actually gotten control over the ball.  Instead, I sprinted the other way towards the other basket.  Which resulted in a big mistake.

                The ball has a tendency to bounce around and more often than not, it usually bounces back to the player who had lost it.  Especially if the defender is not ready to pick the ball up.  Such was the case here.

                I turned to look for the ball, but instead, I saw it bouncing off my teammate's leg and back to my opponent.  He picked it up, and without hesitation, he rose up to shoot the ball.  My teammate tried vainly to block the shot, but was too late.  The ball arced into the basket, accompanied by a _whoop from the player that I had guarded._

                Now, I'm not adverse to a little trash talking during the games.  As a matter of fact, I do a little trash talking now and then.  It adds another layer to the game; suddenly, there's more at stake.  Because now, you have made it personal.  But, there's a boundary to how far talking actually goes.  Once somebody crosses that line, there's bound to be an ensuing fight.

                And this guy was toeing that same line.

                My opponent had scored, and he turned to his teammates and started yelling, _give me the ball, he can't guard me.  I tried to pay no attention, but it was difficult.  The ball came to me, and Loudmouth gave me a wide berth, so I shot and drained the 18-foot jump shot.  Still, this guy wouldn't quit._

                "He's no threat to me."

                "We're going to win, don't you understand that?"

                "He's got nothin'."

                Had he known who I was, I'm sure he would have been a little more careful in choosing his words.

                The score had opened up to 9 to 5 in their favor and now Loudmouth was talking more than he was playing.  He constantly nagged at me every time I got the ball or every time he got the ball.  And finally, I decided I had enough.

                "Hey, you wanna watch that mouth of yours?"  I let more than little edge drift into my voice.

                "Man, shut up."

                Not much of a response, but enough to really get on my nerves.

                "We're killing you guys."

                A four-point difference in a basketball game really mattered little so I let him know that.

                "Not for long."

                His response was a mere scoff.

                I looked at him derisively.  "Come out and guard me."

                I received the ball, and saw him grinning at me full of contempt.  Nonetheless, he stepped forward and lowered into a defensive crouch.

                The biggest problem with trash talking to someone you don't know is precisely that you don't know what they are capable of.  Such was the case here, and the poor guy had no time to react as I exploded to my right.  I was already a step ahead of him and as he began to recover, I crossed the ball over to the other side.  Having been caught off balance twice, he tried to reach for the ball.  I didn't let him even think he could take the ball.  I spun back to my right, pivoting on my right foot.  By this time, I had completely shaken him off and had a clear jump shot that I nailed cleanly.

                Boy, was he pissed.

                He barked at his teammates and demanded that they give him the ball on the possession.  They complied, and I think a part of that had to do with them wanting to see this guy get embarrassed.

                Regardless, he took me out to the top of the free-throw line and went to work.  He started his dribble on his right side and began dribbling back and forth between his right and left hands.  He juked right and crossed back left.

                The key to playing solid defense is being able to anticipate what the offense will do.  A great defender, however, will skip that process, and be able to force the action, and make the offensive player to what he wants him to do.  I, while not being a great defender, consider myself to be better than most, and able to, sometimes, force the action.  Which is what I did here.

                I saw him cross the ball over to his left hand, and I reached forward with my right hand and overplayed him on that side.  He switched the ball over to his right and shot forward.

                I knew I could have taken the ball from him right there.  But a steal wouldn't have been as satisfying. 

                I let him get as far as he wanted to before forcing him to take a shot.  He leaped, and undoubtedly expected me to do so.  I didn't.  As he went up, a flash of surprise shot across his face as he realized nobody had come up with him.  In his indecision, he hesitated, albeit only for a second, but enough to let me make my move.

                I waited a heartbeat before finally following him into the air.  He released the ball on his way down, but I was on my way up.  I ferociously battered the ball away and out of bounds.  I landed and turned to him with a cold glare.  I could've said something, but leaving things unsaid at this point was probably more effective in making my point.

                In my excitement, I managed to knock the ball clear out of bounds, and the other team retained possession.  This time, my opponent took me down low by the basket.  He started throwing elbows in an attempt to establish position and as an outlet for is anger.  I tried to give as good as I got, but my opponent outweighed me by 10 pounds.  I tried to get an arm across his body in an attempt to deny him the ball, but in the process, got caught by a vicious elbow to the throat.

                I thought my windpipe had collapsed, but fortunately, it was not nearly that bad.  It did, however, leave a nasty bruise, I found out later.

                Not only that, it also provided my opponent with the time and space needed to score the basket.

                Eyes blazing, I called hoarsely for the ball.  I tried to clear my throat, but it did nothing to soothe the pain, instead, set the nerves tingling again.  I let the pain feed my anger and used the anger to focus on my opponent and the basket standing twenty feet away.

                I began my move on the right wing.  I knew I was better than him, and now was the time to show him just how much better.  I cuffed the ball in my right hand and held it behind me at my hip.  I leaned forward and let my gaze drift to my left.  When I saw my opponent relax, I let a feral grin play on my lips and jabbed my right foot out, along with my right arm.  Loudmouth reacted to cover the right side, but anticipating just such a reaction, I crossed the ball over to my left and avoided him.  I stole forward gracefully, like a panther.  Loudmouth's teammate came to help but I simply switched the dribble back to my right hand.  Loudmouth had recovered and returned, joined by another defender, and I leaped forward, coming to a jump stop with the ball firmly in two hands now.  I exploded to the basket and stretched out with my right arm, slamming the ball viciously into the metal rim.  I returned to the ground and glared again, coldly, at the boy who was my opponent.  I grinned maliciously and shook my head, mouthing silently the words, _it's over._

                I am Akira Sendoh.  And this is my story.  My story in which I was named Tensai, although prematurely, and how I learned to live up to that name.  How I learned to become the best of the best.  How I fulfilled my mandate bestowed upon me by others.  I, Tensai...


	2. Chapter 1: We're not in Kansas anymore

Chapter 1:  We're not in Kansas anymore…

                I walked into the gym.  My first year attending Ryonan High School and I was already heralded as its savior.  People called me a Tensai, a genius, at the sport of basketball.  I'd like to think so as well.  The other players on the team all looked at me as I let the door close with a loud crash.  _I do like to make an entrance, especially on the first day._  My entrance, however, did not have the effect that I would have liked.

                A small grouping of the team stood together at one corner of the gym, speaking in hushed voices.  A few ignored me altogether, and resumed shooting baskets after giving me a fleeting glance.  One of them, a pleasant faced young boy, cast his eyes on me a few seconds longer than the others, but resumed shooting just the same.  However, he now appeared tense and deeper in concentration.  The last two were the most imposing figures.

                I believe that you can tell a lot about the way a person plays basketball solely by the way they carry themselves.  The way they walk, make hand gestures and even stand, all translated into how they played during a game.  And the last two players that caught my attention did so because of their behavior.  The way they moved was very distinct and I was able to effectively recognize how they'd play on the court.

                I know that sounds very presumptuous, but all things considered, it was impossible not to somehow subject these two players to such prejudice.  For example...

                The first player caught my eye initially by the virtue of his size.  He was a hulking mass, and built like a house.  Overgrown muscles adorned his bare arms, and even the uniform, which I believe was extra-large, seemed two-sizes still too small.  It appeared that he had more muscle mass in just one of his arms than I had in my whole body.  And he was _tall._  He was easily a head taller than I was, despite my spiky hair.

                He played, however, with unbecoming quickness and control.  He had great big hands that he used to haul in any post entry pass that came even remotely in his direction.  Having played basketball all my life, I knew just how rare it was to find a big man with mobility and ball control.  And behind his stoic exterior, I saw in his eyes cunning and passion with which he played the game.

                The second man was much smaller in size but no less striking.  He was shorter than I was but just as solidly built.  His most notable feature, however, were his eyes.  His eyebrows were slanted at a severe angle and the twin orbs beneath them shone with intensity.  They belied an intense ferocity and passion that burned in them long ago, now replaced by an icy coldness, like a steel sword forged from the fire that burned within him.  That he was able to reign in the burning desire and focus it into a sharp concentration that threatened to pierce his opponents was remarkable in itself, but to have done so at such an early age was simply amazing.

                Nor was he given to any undue displays of his abilities.  He simply worked his way around the semi-circle, sinking shot repeatedly from every angle, seemingly unable to miss.  A small smile played on his lips as he and the larger man exchanged jokes, but other than that, he was entirely focused on each and every shot.

                My observations were interrupted by a gentle tap on my shoulder.  It was same pleasant faced boy that had been practicing before.  I turned to him and greeted him with a smile.

                "Hello, my name is Akira Sendoh."  I held out my hand and after a moment's hesitation, the shorter boy took my hand in his in a firm shake.

                "I know who you are, and so does the whole school.  I'm Hiroaki Koshino."  He released my hand shortly thereafter and continued to speak.  "The coach won't be here for a few more minutes so let me introduce the team to you."

                He gestured to the mountain of a man that had caught my attention before.  "That's Jun Uozumi.  He was a highly touted center all through out middle school.  The coach personally went to recruit him to get him to come to this school.  Last season he tore through the league at 17 points and 11 rebounds per game.  That's almost unheard of for a freshman.  He's in his second year at Ryonan now.

                "The guy standing next to him is Akenami Kato.  He's considered to be the number one point guard in the league.  They call him the Assassin.  He'll do everything a point guard is supposed to do.  He's a great passer, defender, leader and everything else, but like his nickname, he'll score sneakily and just kill you.  He only averaged 11 points a game last season, but if you looked carefully at the stats and the games, you'll find that he scored most of them in the last 5 minutes of a game.  Some scouts say that if you were to put him at shooting guard, he'll score 25 a game easily."

                Koshino took a quick breath and continued.  "Even more amazing is that while he gets 6 or 7 assists a game, he only turns the ball over once, maybe twice a game."

                I nodded slowly, taking all this in.  If both players were nearly as good as Koshino made them sound, we would not have a problem at all this season.

                Koshino continued to introduce the players.  "We don't exactly have a starting power forward, we have two swingmen.  One of them is Mato Ikegami.  He's the best defensive player on our team and has been named one of the top five defenders in our league.  The other one is Ashira Tokugami.  The other players call him the Rifleman.  Anything within half court range is fair game for him.  Legend has it that he once hit 25 shots in a row from all along the half court line.  The only problem is that he's really not that good at anything else.  But when he gets going, he can put up some serious numbers.

                "And that's really it for the starters.  I'm probably going to be backing you up at the 2 spot.  There's Toriyuki Uekusa, who'll be the second point guard.  He's supposed to be some sort of genius at making passes.  And, there's Kicchou Fukuda, who, although he only really started 2 months ago, has freakish athleticism.  I'm pretty sure that's going to be the regular rotation."

                As Koshino spoke, I noticed the enthusiasm and the easy with which he analyzed each of the players.  His analyses were concise and clear, providing a clear depiction of each of the players.  Not only was he an athlete, he was also a fan of the game, with enough knowledge to be a scout.

                I heard the door open and saw the coach walk in.  He was Coach Taoka.  Known as the best tactical coach in the game, he had a knack for developing plays that suited his team's style of play perfectly.  He was adept at making changes according to the opposition, and he was famous for revolutionizing the high school game in Japan.  That being said, he was really not much of an inspirational coach.  His critics pointed out his lack of ability in motivating his players, failing to get them to produce 100 percent every game.  Luckily, he was able to recruit players with great leadership skills in Uozumi and Kato.  This season, Ryonan was projected to make it to the All-Japan High School Finals.

                Coach Taoka proceeded to make a short speech about the goals for the team that season and how to achieve them.  He talked uncomfortably about coming together as a team, working toward a common goal, and giving a "110 Percent" every game.  While the speech itself wasn't terrible, because of the awkwardness with which it was delivered, it failed to carry the impact that coach wanted to make.

                Once we began the drills, however, Coach Taoka relaxed significantly.  He made us run the three-man-weave as a warm up.  Then we split into two lines, one shooting, the other non-shooting.  We shot lay ups, jump shots, pull up jump shots, and pump fake and drive.  Then, Coach Taoka started getting creative.

                Coach set up two equal lines, one on each ends of the court.  The line on the far baseline started with the ball.  The first person in that line had to throw the ball end to end - it couldn't, however, bounce more than once on the way - to the other line.  The recipient of the ball had to dribble the ball past the half-court line in under 5 seconds.  The defender had to stop him from getting over.  If the passer failed to make the full-court pass in just one bounce, he had to run line-drills, end to end.  If the ball handler failed to make it across the half court line, he had to run line-drills.  If the initial passer, who now was the defender, failed to make the stop, he had to run line-drills.  After the exchange, the passer now went to the receiving end and vice versa.  Coach had us do this until everyone had a chance to handle the ball twice.  Needless, almost, to say, Tokugami and Uozumi had to run suicides every single time.  I only ran once, and as for Kato; well, he didn't have to run suicides at all.

                We got a 3-minute break, and we started again.  This time, we played a full court one-on-one game.  Everyone lined up in a single file, and the first one in line became the defender.  The second player started with the ball.  First to five won the game.  The winner stayed on, the loser had to run 10 suicides.  Out of 14 players on the team I was second to last.  Tokugami had won three straight since he started, what with his long range shooting.

                It wasn't long before Tokugami had to play Kato, who stood seventh in line.  Kato was simply too quick for the flat-footed Tokugami.  The game was over quickly, the score: 5 to 1.  And Kato likewise ripped through the rest of the players; the one that had given him the most trouble was Ikegami with his long reach and uncanny defense.  That game ended 5-3.

                One more game was played and won for Kato, and he finally came to face me.  I'm pretty certain that he took no small pleasure in not having had to run the suicides.  I, likewise, had no intention of running them either.

                I got to start with the ball.  As soon as I received it, I sprinted down-court.  I'd seen Kato lock up players in the backcourt, and they lost without even getting a single shot.  To make sure that that'd not happen to me, I hauled ass over the half court line and stood at the top of the three-point arc.

                I had a few centimeters over Kato in height, and I sought to exploit that advantage as much as I could.

                Turning my back to the basket, I edged my way to the right hand corner of the key.  I kept the dribble in my right hand and put my left side against Kato and started backing him down, pressuring him back to the basket.

                When I felt that I was close enough to the basket, I picked up my dribble.  I now turned my back completely to Kato and felt his forearm against my back.  I head-faked to my left and pivoted back to my right, and brought the ball up to shoot.

                But before I could, Kato had cleaned swiped the ball from my grasp.  I grunted in frustration and turned to retrieve the ball, but in my moment of hesitation, Kato had already picked up the ball and left for the other basket.

                I'd always thought I was pretty fast when it came to running the length of the court, but I realized then that if _I_ could be described as being fast, then there was no way to describe the speed with which Kato moved.  I had started from the three-point arc and by the time I'd reached half court, Kato was already at the opposite free-throw line.  I had no chance of even thinking about catching up to him.  He easily scored with a lay-up and glanced back at me.  He flashed a smile that was anything but friendly.

                "You're Akira Sendoh, right?"

                I gritted my teeth and tried to keep all emotion from my voice.  "Yeah, I am."

                "The famous Tensai," he continued in a bitterly mocking tone.  "You'll soon learn that that title has no meaning here.  From now on, you're just a rookie."

                I glared at him, hard.  "I'll prove you wrong, you just wait."

                Kato just scoffed and turned to walk away.  He stopped at the half court line and lowered into a defensive crouch.  "Well?  I'm waiting."

                In retrospect, Kato was right.  Regardless of who had titled me what, as soon as I had entered that Ryonan high school gym, I was nothing more than a rookie.  My reputation didn't describe who I was and what I could do.  I had to prove it all over again, this time to my teammates, and in turn, they would prove to be the toughest critics to convince.

I learned two things that day; Kato was the best basketball player that I'd ever seen before in my life and running ten suicides really _is_ like suicide.


	3. Chapter 2: And then one day

                A week passed by and along with it, 4 more practices.  I still found it hard to believe that I'd been so thoroughly embarrassed by Kato every single practice match.  I almost thought he had a personal vendetta against me.  It got so bad that I almost exploded in frustration and walked out of the gym.  I had been so praised by everyone around me during junior high, but now in high school, I had been quickly turned into Kato's personal whipping boy.  The only thing that kept me from going off on Kato was stemmed in my own stubbornness; there was no way that I'd let Kato know that he'd gotten to me.

                All these thoughts trudged through my mind as I made my way to the local court.  I thought I'd see many more people than I did, considering that it was a Saturday morning.  But I didn't.  There was only one person out running, another elderly lady walking her dog and a young woman sitting on the bench near the basketball court, engrossed in the book she was holding.

                I pushed open the gate of the chain link fence that surrounded the court.  I stepped onto the court and immediately, all my worries flooded away, leaving me with one focus: basketball.  I slowly started to shoot baskets, starting from close to the basket and steadily moved farther and farther way.  When I felt I had warmed up enough I started practicing in earnest, working on ball-handling, pull-up jump shots, three pointers and post up moves.

                "Akira Sendoh, at the head of the key, has the ball in his right hand," I whispered to myself.  I exploded to my right and continued in that play-by-play manner.  "He drives hard to the right, stops, crosses over to his left, pulls up, and hits the jumper!"

                I jogged over to the ball and this time ran over to the right corner.  "Sendoh, this time on the right wing, stares down his opponent."  I began dribbling.  "He's really abusing his opponent, Kato, today."

                I shot forward and stopped short, stepped back to take the shot, imagining that I'd shook Kato right out of his shorts.

                "Sendoh, shoots, he scores!"

                The ball slid through the net and bounced once, twice, three times, and began rolling away to the gate.  I ran after the ball and picked it up.  As I did so, I noticed the girl that had been reading on the bench had now moved to the fence, leaning against it, clearly amused.

                I suddenly felt self-conscious and quickly flashed a sheepish grin.  "Can I help you?"

                "No, I was just watching the game," the girl said with a smile.

                I realize now that I had felt embarrassed, but at the time, the embarrassment was completely drowned in my astonishment at the unfathomably beauty of the young woman that had smiled at me.

                Her blonde hair cascaded down to her shoulders and framed her roundish face.  Her eyes were the brightest blue, the likes of which I had never seen.  Her upturned nose gave her a playful demeanor.  Her smile: that look of pure enjoyment that enveloped her whole face was enough to start my heart pumping as if I had just run the All-Tokyo marathon.  It was a several moments before I could finally speak again.

                "My name is…"

                "Akira Sendoh."  The girl with the radiant smile continued, "I know who you are."

                "Really?"

                She nodded.  "I've read all about you in the high school paper; the basketball Tensai who came to Ryonan to be our savior."

                I knew of the article.  I personally had refused to read it, but my parents were both so excited, they had it framed and posted on the wall in my room along with the numerous trophies I had won in junior high.  _What that article fails to mention is how poorly I'm playing during practices.  It's all just hype; Kato tears me apart regularly during the practice games._

                "I'm not really that good."

                The girl raised an eyebrow and said quizzically, "According to my friends you are, and then some."  A playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she continued, "I don't know, though.  Why would an Ace player be playing a _pretend_ basketball game?"

                I shrugged.  "Everybody has dreams.  Even the best players."

                "Oh, so you do admit that you are a Tensai."

                I scratched the back of my neck.  "That's not what I meant."  I sighed heavily and continued.  "I'm really not that good.  The seniors rip me apart with regularity.  As it is, I'm not sure I'll even be first off the bench, let alone break the starting lineup.

                "There are so many good, no, great players out there.  The awards that I got during my junior high seasons and what the reporters are saying, none of them mean anything anymore."

                She looked genuinely impressed.  "Wow, an athlete who's not high on himself?"

                I chuckled.  "I was; recent experiences, however, have put things into perspective for me."

                "Well, that's a good thing."  She glanced at her watch then back at me and flashed once again that gorgeous smile.  "Listen, I need to be somewhere in a few minutes, but maybe I'll see you later?"

                "Sure, take care."

                I watched her walk off and disappear around the bend, and I consequently returned to the court.  It wasn't until much later that I realized that I had not asked for her name.  _Akira, you've just met the most beautiful woman on the planet and you haven't thought to get her name?  What are you thinking?_

                As I walked to the gate, I glanced once more at the corner that she had disappeared around, hoping irrationally that perhaps she'd be back.  I turned away, just as irrationally disappointed.  As I walked home, I wondered if I'd ever see her again.

                I returned to the court on Sunday, foolishly hoping that she'd be there, but she wasn't.  I knew it was very unlikely that she would be, but somehow, I couldn't get the rid of the feeling that I would see her again.  As I turned to leave, I was stopped short by the sound of the ball pounding against the ground and saw Koshino on the court.  He was practicing steadily, working carefully on refining his jump shot.  My heart went out to him; I knew from practice that he'd be nowhere as good as me or even the other freshman.  But I knew he was an intelligent basketball player, and that he wanted really badly to be as good as we were.  I thought about going to join him for a second but thought better of it.  He'd be best off practicing on his own, being able to focus on the goal at hand, rather than be distracted by my being there.

                So I walked away, feeling awkwardly lonely, as if I were missing something that I didn't know was missing.


	4. Chapter 3: It's all coming together now

                When I walked into practice on Monday, I was surprised by what I saw.  I thought that I'd gotten there early; practice would not start for another hour, and I'd immediately come to the gym as soon as classes ended.  But there was Koshino.  His face as flushed with exhaustion, sweat drenched his t-shirt and the salty brine poured down his forehead.  But there he was, running line drills by himself.

                After he finished his last set, he collapsed on the spot, and for a second I thought he'd passed out.  When he didn't move for a few minutes, I began to get worried and began walking toward him.  But before I'd gotten halfway there, Koshino had already gotten up again, and began to stretch.  I continued to walk over to him and finally sat down next to him, joining him for the stretches.

                I looked over at him as he was doing butterflies.  "When'd you get here?"

                He moved to another stretch and took a second before answering.  "I have lunch as my last period, so I've been here since then."  He grunted in exertion as he struggled to touch his toes.  "I need the practice if I'm even going to get in the playing rotation."

                I knew from the recent practices that Koshino had not done very well.  He showed a lot of effort and intelligence, but he just didn't have the same natural talent that we did.  It wasn't that _he_ was not athletic, but the fact was that we were just so much more athletic than he was.  And it appeared that he just couldn't hit shots during the games.  With the first scrimmage approaching us, Koshino was worried that he'd not even make the playing rotation.  Taoka was notorious for having a small rotation, and Koshino just had not performed well enough.  I was pretty sure that he would not make the rotation.

                _Most guys would quit if they were in Koshino's situation, but he just keeps on working.  I hope everything works out for the best for him, but the chances of him seeing many minutes at all is very unlikely._

                After we had both stretched, we jogged around the court for a few minutes and began shooting around.  Koshino looked very distracted and it was evident in his inability to sink jump shots.

                I decided to talk to him for a second and try to get his mind off of what I knew must be just killing him inside.

                "How do you know so much about this ball-club anyway?"

                Koshino glanced at me quizzically.  "What do you mean?"

                I shrugged.  "Well, my first day, you gave me a pretty in depth scouting report on the whole team, and I was just wondering how you knew so much."

                He smiled wryly.  "Do you know that I wasn't even recruited to come here?  It's always been my dream to play for the Ryonan team.  Couple of other schools came to me, offering entrance to their high schools if I'd join their team, but I knew I had to go to Ryonan."

                "You're a walk-on?"

                "Yeah.  Of the 12 players on the active roster, I'm the only one that wasn't recruited.  I guess when I came to try-outs, Coach just saw something in me that he liked, I don't know.  What I do know is that I'm damn lucky to be here, but I also have a dream of one day dressing and playing for this team.  I'll be damned if I'm gonna ride that bench all season long.

                "Anyway, I've always paid a lot of attention to this team and more or less memorized everyone's scouting report when I came here, to find out what the competition's like."

                I nodded and returned to shooting, at a loss for words.  I was heavily recruited by several schools, so I had no idea what Koshino had to go through, but now I understood even better how important this was to him.

                It wasn't long before the others started showing up and for today's practice Coach Taoka broke us up into two teams: the second and third year players versus the freshmen.  Kato, Uozumi, Ikegami and Tokugami were joined by a second year power forward, Osamo Hoiro.  On my team: Koshino, Uekusa, Fukuda and a first year center, Akemi Kenichi.  _Every one of us has something to prove, whether it's for playing time, or for respect.  We won't go down quietly._

                The game started with a jump ball.  The game was played to 21, win by two, by ones and twos.  Uozumi easily won the tip and Kato started with the ball.  The upper-classmen had the basket going from left to right, and Kato dribbled to the top of the three-point line.

                He sneered at me nastily and spoke, "Time for school, rookie."

                I ignored the remark and lowered into a defensive crouch in front of him.  Before I could even think to react, Kato exploded to his right and blew right by me for a lay up.

                And so the game started.  Kato was playing with more lethality than before and Koshino played with a hunger and a viciousness that arose from only the most desperate of the players.

                Koshino literally was all over the place.  He chased the ball down end to end and was not afraid to dive after loose balls.  I could not fathom where he got such an endless supply of energy.  But in all honesty, I had really no time to worry about that.  I had my hands full getting by ass ripped apart by Kato.  I could not touch him.  He had never looked more focused than he did now.

                Then it happened.  Tokugami came off a pick set by Hoiro, rubbing off Koshino by the head of the key.  He rose up for the shot just as Fukuda reached him.  He released the ball, but it was tipped by Fukuda.  The ball clanged off the rim and Uozumi leaped to grab the rebound.  Just as the carom reached Uozumi's hands, Koshino exploded out of nowhere and ripped the ball out of the sky.  Bodies crashed and Koshino was violently tossed the ground.  He didn't let go of the ball, though, and clutched at it desperately.  He slowly got up and let out a crazed roar that rang throughout the gym.

                That roar triggered something primal within me.  Something that said that there was no way in hell that I was going let Kato take me again; that I would not allow that to happen.  The frustration that had been welling up inside of me finally exploded and burned white hot with passion and hunger.  Unable to control myself, I got the ball and immediately went to work on Kato.

                "Come on!" I bellowed the challenge at my foe.

                "Show me something, rookie!"

                My eyes burned with intensity as I felt adrenaline flood every fiber of my being.  _This is it; this is the stuff of legends.  Now is when I make my mark._

                I let the inferno in my heart explode out and let the energy fill my legs.  I shot forward like a torpedo.  Kato reeled back to compensate.  I crossed the ball hard from my right to left, and exploded, leaving Kato in the dust.  I hurled myself forward towards the wall that was Uozumi.  He had blocked me numerous times before, but I knew it'd not happen this time.  I leaped into the air and went chest to chest against Uozumi.  I felt the impact but I willed myself forward, and before I knew it, the rim was there, and I forcefully slammed the ball into the hoop.  The force of the collision threw me to the ground, but I refused to stay down and shot back up again, letting a great roar escape my throat.

                Kato, ever the player, quickly recovered and received the inbounds pass from Tokugami.  He accelerated towards the other hoop and I knew I was not done yet.  I chased after him, not aware of anything but my target: Akenami Kato.  A mere seconds later, he was at the basket and rose up for a lay up.  Still a step behind him, I threw myself into the air recklessly.  I could only imagine the look on Kato's face as my hand closed over the ball like a hawk.  I snatched the ball out of the air, but I knew that was not enough.  I gripped the ball firmly in two hands and pinned it against the backboard before pulling it down.  In pure rush of adrenaline, I leaped high into the air again, and screamed as loudly as I could.

                Koshino came to join me with a hearty high-five and a chest bump and the two of us roared again until are throats hurt.

                When we had finally settled down, I looked over at Kato.  He had a smile on his face; it was different than before – it lacked the meanness – instead, this one was filled with approval and respect.

                "Not bad, rookie, not bad at all."

                We are freshmen for a reason, and part of that is that we are still young and inexperienced.  Even after all that, the junior and senior team beat us – although we made it a game – by a score of 24 to 22.


End file.
